Crisis of Faith
by speshulduck
Summary: elliot experiences a crisis of faith (interlude on "home).


title: crisis of faith  
  
author: duck  
  
rating: pg  
  
summary: elliot has a crisis of faith during "home."  
  
author note: kukrae made me do it. started as a drabble, but it grew into a little bit more.  
  
disclaimer: the episode and the characters aren't mine. duh.  
  
-----  
  
Having to watch him beat himself up like this is painful. He blames himself completely for Jacob's death and I know nothing I do will be able to change that. Elliot needs to stop his self-abusive cycle--hell I need to too. Neither of us is perfect and we have to do this job like we're superheroes. We're not. For the love of God we're not.  
  
He's resisting crying I know. I can see it in the corners of his eyes, in that glassy look, in the fact that he won't look directly at me. I want to fold him into my arms and tell him to cry and let it out. But then I'd probably start crying too and we'd just end up one big mess with all the CSU people staring at us.  
  
So I do the next best thing. I reach out for his hand and hold it as gently as I can in both of mine. I tell him not to blame himself. I tell him he did enough right by caring about Jacob in first place. I know my words don't fall on deaf ears, but he has no reaction to them except a slight tremble in his hand that I'm holding. I squeeze it slightly, but I suddenly find myself swept up into a tight hug.  
  
This is very atypical of our relationship, but I hug him back, knowing this is what he needs and hoping I don't start to cry. He doesn't, so that keeps my tears in check for the time being.  
  
"I don't know if I can keep doing this, Liv," he says quietly into my ear. "One minute I was home having a good time with my son. The next moment I'm here, finding the body of a boy who reminds me far too much of Dickie to not feel anything."  
  
"It's okay, Elliot," I sooth softly. "We all have a crisis of faith every now and then."  
  
"But what if this is my last one?" he asks, his voice a breathy whisper. My heart stops at those words.  
  
"If you think you're leaving me here in this job all by myself to train some new, wet-behind-the-ears partner, you've got another thing coming, Stabler," I tell him roughly. He chuckles dryly.  
  
"I'd see to it that you got Munch instead," he assures.  
  
"I would dog your steps for the rest of your days." I sigh deeply. This requires more than humor to diffuse. "In all seriousness Elliot, if you need a break take a vacation somewhere. This job is hell and you've been running yourself ragged lately."  
  
I pull away from the hug but keep my arms around his neck. His hands stay on my hips and he leans his head forward to rest his forehead on my chin. I smile indulgently at his actions. "Maybe a vacation would be nice."  
  
"Yeah, take the Kathy and the kids to Disney world or something," I offered.  
  
"Nah, too expensive." Sometimes his defeatist attitude annoys me.  
  
"Well it's the middle of January; at least take them somewhere warm."  
  
"Maybe," he says noncommittally. I tip my own head so that we're eye-to-eye, glancing around the dark hallway as I do to make sure no one's watching. We don't need any more rumors flying around.  
  
"Get out of your head for a while, El. Just go somewhere you don't have to worry about being a cop and just be a father and a husband for a while. Sometimes I worry that you're forgetting who you are when you're not on duty." His blue eyes are almost gray in the darkness.  
  
"We're always on duty, Liv."  
  
I know he's right because I get the same way. I sleep lightly knowing the phone can always ring. I never walk alone after dark if I can help it. I'm always leery of people around me. I try to date guys, but I can't help fixating on their profession and all the perps we've arrested who abused their positions in similar fields. Life just isn't the same after working in Special Victims and you have to be a certain kind of crazy to work here as long as we have.  
  
I'd like to think that my reason for staying mostly sane for all these years is staring me down right now. "Yes we are, but that doesn't mean you can't be a good father too."  
  
This is really what it's about. Elliot worries that he's there for someone else's kids all the time and never for his own. I have a pretty good idea where that thought comes from--damn Kathy for give him such guilt trips--and I wish there was something I could say that would make him finally disbelieve it.  
  
"Just because you care about what happens to kids like Jacob doesn't mean you love your own children any less." I can see a single tear trying to escape the corner of his eye, but he blinks it away. "Your compassion defines who you are, Elliot. It makes you a damn good cop."  
  
"I think I've given you this speech before," he says wryly.  
  
"And it worked on me too. You understand what I'm saying, don't you?"  
  
He nods and his forehead bumps against mine. He leaves it there but closes his eyes, not allowing me to look into them so closely. Maybe there's something else to this one too. I decide to return to the subject of Jacob himself.  
  
"There wasn't any way you could have prevented this," I remind him. His eyes slide back open and he gazes at me with his own brand of quiet disbelief. "Children's Services wouldn't listen to you and you gave him your card to call if he needed anything. He called and you got here as soon as you could."  
  
"I still feel like I didn't do enough," he sighs. Like I said before, I hate this defeatist attitude he gets sometimes. It's like I'm talking to a wall. Maybe I should tell him so.  
  
"Sometimes you need to just shut up and believe what I tell you, Stabler." I was going for more tactful, but I seem to have missed the mark on that one. Oh well, at least he's listening to me. "You could not have stopped this from happening; the circumstances were beyond your control. Considering the situation I think you've behaved above and beyond the call of duty and I am proud to call you my partner."  
  
So that was a bit more heartfelt and confessional than I'd intended, but now he's blinking at me trying to process it all. A small grin creeps onto his face. It's a welcome thing to see. "Thanks, partner."  
  
"Believe me yet?"  
  
"I suppose," he says. I stare at him for a moment, hoping his moment of insecurity has passed. His blue eyes are unreadable, even to me, so I might as well just ask.  
  
"Crisis of faith averted?" I ask.  
  
He considers the question for a moment before answering, his eyes twinkling in a beautiful extension of his smile. "Crisis of faith averted."  
  
[end] 


End file.
